Should Not Have Been
by TheMistyMountains
Summary: The final battle between Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin was about to end and bring Camelots golden era about. However, Morgana's use of a cursed magic banishes Merlin to the future. He becomes caught up in the war that plagues the wizarding world, along with new friends he tries to end the tyranny of Lord Voldemort; at the same time, he desperately tries to find a way home.
1. The final battle?

**This is my first fanfiction, so please keep an open-mind and kindness in your hearts! This is a Harry Potter and Merlin crossover, and it's set just after the season 4 finale, and at the very beginning of the seventh Harry Potter book, when they have all just arrived at The Burrow. However, lots will change. Also, I always pictured Arthur being older than Merlin by a few years, so in this Arthur is about 20, and Merlin is 17! They always looked so young in the show, and people grew up quicker in the medieval ages, this is the age I would've set them around. Also, I would like them to be around this for my story, suits me better!**

**Without further ado, Allon-sy!**

Merlin POV:

The wind was soft, gently tugging at the ends of the red capes. They fluttered in unison, as the men faced off with the covered faces of the Saxon hoard. At the front of the Knights of Camelot stood King Arthur Pendragon, his face hard and determined, yet a weariness glinted in his eyes as he gazed at a women clad in a flowing black gown.

Morgana's face was twisted, a sneer etched upon her once kind features. Pale green eyes roved madly around at the Knights in turn, but consistently flickered back to Arthur, and the pale man at his side. Tall and gangly, with sharp cheekbones, raven hair which covered large ears, and deep, gold- flecked sparkling blue eyes. His fists were clenched out his sides. Merlin felt as torn as he always did looking at Morgana. He felt responsible for what she had become, and the same time he hated what she had made of her gifts. The old magic that was part of his soul hummed to him, alerting him that there was something different about this battle.

"Aren't you tired of these games, Morgana?" Arthur called out, unsheathing Excalibur slowly, his knights mimicking the motion.

"On the contrary, Arthur, the longer we play, the more elaborate the games!" her voice echoed seductively, as she clapped her hands together harshly, behind them, Elyan flinched. "The only difference is, I am done playing. It is time for me to take my rightful place as Queen as Camelot. I think these last three months of your reign have proved you are truly Uthers son."

Arthur did not respond, tightening his grip on Excalibur and raising it in front him before thrusting into the air. The tension in the air was tangible, and the battalion behind Arthur bent their legs, preparing for the onslaught. The metallic taste of anticipation and fear was in everyone's mouths.

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" He called, and the knights charged forward, meeting the Saxons head on in the middle of the open field. Morgana had disappeared, transported to the edge of battle where she watched with narrowed eyes. From the folds of her cloak, she withdrew a handful of strange glittering powder, which she brought to her lips and whispered,_ "Chaock miali tofryemlyso caine."_ The powder glowed a bright white, but was unnoticed by all but one.

Merlin had quickly retreated to higher ground, crouching behind a tree uncaring of his appearance of a coward. He had to be focused, and his own personal safety couldn't distract them. Muttering under his breath he blew countless enemies back from the knights. Redirecting arrows and thrusting ownerless swords through the shins of the Saxon army. Unfortunately he was unable to perform bigger spells, though his meetings with the Druids had definitely increased his skill. Despite the level battle, the magic of the old religion fluttered in his chest, a nervous warning that something bigger was about to happen.

The feeling had begun 2 months ago, just after the crowning of Arthur as King of Camelot. Morgana hadn't been sighted for a while, and Arthur had become engaged to Gwen, and was falling into the routine of King. Gwaine had gone out on a scouting trip, and returned haggard and still, miraculously with a hangover procured from some tavern he had spent the night in. He had announced that a Saxon army had been steadily marching across the chaos filled lands of the late King Cenred, led by Morgana. Grim faced, Arthur had quickly set to establishing a fully-fledged army of knights. Training had been intense for all the Knights, and duties had been tripled for all those under the castle service. Merlin had gotten the worst of it though.

On top of all his usual ridiculous amount of chores, he had also set to increasing his magical knowledge, and had managed to sneak out of the castle 3 times a week (the guards still totally oblivious and idiotic) to have lessons with Isilder and Alator. Wards had been woven into the castle walls, and Merlin had taken it on himself to enchant all the armor with basic repellents of simple spells. Needless to say, he had been at the end of his rope for a good month and a half.

The worst had been when Arthur decided to rush the weeding to Gwen along, for fear that if something would happen to him in battle, Camelot would have a ruler that was not Morgana Le Fay. Or course Merlin had endured every aspect of Arthur's angst, patiently at first, but after a while he had given up and drugged him the night before his weeding with a sleeping draught in the wine. That had resulted in much yelling and goblet throwing the next morning, and a half- apology in the evening after Gwen had spotted the bruises adorning Merlin's arm, and given her new husband a sharp reprimand.

The only other bright spot had occurred about 3 weeks ago, when returning from a particularly straining battle session, (Merlin had fought Alator, Isilder, and 5 other druids) he had run into Gwaine.

_ "Long night?" A voice called out jovially as Merlin rubbed his tired eyes. Starting, he whipped around and tripped over his feet staggering ungracefully. A snort was the response to his antics, and Gwaine smiled cheekily, flipping his dark hair over his shoulder as he stepped from the shadows. Despite his easygoing exterior, Gwaines eyes were filled with an unusual amount of focus and concern, with a knowing glint that Merlin didn't quite like._

_ "What are you talking about?" Merlin responded with a question, his voice steady._

_ "I don't know. You see, the strangest thing happened to me today. I actually decided to not go to the tavern, and instead follow you on one of your unstealthy escapades. Imagine my surprise when I saw you meet with 2 druids, and then promptly disappear!" Sarcasm was thick within his tone. Merlin shifted, his eyes fixed on Gwaines chin. "I mean," he continued, after Merlin's silence "I had hoped that if a certain magical servant was trying to find some way of helping, he would have at least shared it with his best friend." _

_ Gasping, Merlin stared into Gwaines eyes, "You know?" he whispered._

_ Laughing kindly, Gwaine started forward and laid his hand on Merlins shoulder. "Mate, flying plates, the whole fiasco with the Fisher King and needing 'Courage, strength, and magic,' not to mention falling tree branches and mysterious fires in slavers castles… I am not as unobservant as some believe." _

_ "So you knew, you knew this whole time! You could have mentioned something sooner, I would've been grateful for the help." _

_ A strange expression passed Gwaines face, "I wanted you to tell me. It was your secret, and I thought that you would eventually trust me enough with your secret." He said quietly. Merlin looked sad, and he scuffed the stones with his boots._

_ "Im sorry Gwaine, I've never told anyone before. They've always found out by accident. I ca- I couldn- I don't know how to tell someone." _

_ Loud chuckles filled the air, and Gwaine marched Merlin towards the glowing citadel of Camelot. "It doesn't matter now! I know, you know I know, we're all good. This warrants a tavern celebration! I am going to see you drunk before I die!"_

_ "You aren't mad at me?" Merlin whispered "You aren't scared?" Gwaine rolled his eyes, and tapped his hand against the hilt of sword. _

_ "Magic is like this sword here, it just is, neither good nor evil, but channeled by the wielder. When I met you I was weary, but I got to now you Merlin. Magic isn't your defining trait of your personality; it's like having another limb. I just needed to see what you were going to do with it. I joined the knights because I believe Arthur is a good man, and he needed more people to tell him the truth when it was staring him in the face. However, I also joined because I know how much you care about Arthur, and how much you watch out for him. It made me realize that no one looks out for you. Forgetting all your power mate, you still are hopeless with a sword." _

_ A goofy grin had been spreading across Merlin's face as he talked, so wide it looked like it would break him. His deep eyes were shimmering with unshed gratitude. _

_ "Can you show me?" the question threw Merlin off of his high cloud, and he looked at Gwaine with wide eyes._

_ "Show you my magic?" He clarified, startled. _

_ "Yes Merlin, let's see some of this mystical action in play!" _

_ Brining his hand up to his mouth, he whispered, "Forbernan." A small flame grew in his open palm, and with warm gold eyes, he made it into shapes of knights, dragons, and a pheasant._

Shaking his head of the memories, he allowed himself a slight grin as he tripped up 3 men running for Gwaine. The tension of the battle was building, and adrenaline thrummed through his magic igniting small sparks on his fingertips. It was in these moments that he felt the freest, being able to allow him magic to react on its instinctive nature, feeling the threads that connected everyone and everything. He could count the glowing strands that waved in the air, truly making the world turn.

These thoughts ran through his mind fast, and he felt a dark presence lash out at his mind, causing him to fall back with a cry of pain. Dark clouds were gathering quickly in the sky, shadows falling over the men, and despite the shrieks of the injured, a deadly silence enveloped the knights.

Merlin stood, his magic literally dragging him off the ground, swirling beneath his skin in an agitated state. He needed to get to Arthur, now.

Running, he dived into the battle, muttering spells under his breath as Saxons turned his way with their swords. Most ignored the willowy boy, deeming him insignificant. He knew it, the bloody prat would be in the center of the battle, determined to be in the least accessible area possible. Merlin used some of Elyans swear words, and emerged panting just behind Arthur.

It was as though he had entered the eye of the hurricane. Men battled all around, but it was as though they moved in slow motion, and none turned to face the 3 in the center. Arthur's shoulders were rigid, his soft blue eyes connected with Morganas pale green ones.

She stood across from him, her left hand clenched in a fist, the right one perched neatly on a hip. Her disdainful sneer curled her lips.

"What are you doing, Morgana?" Arthur called, his voice strained. It was then that Merlin realized that there was a clear sheen around their little circle. A barrier keeping back the tide of the battle, deterring anyone from intruding on his private scene, though his magic, Merlin gathered, had allowed him to pass unscathed and undetected on the edge.

"No distractions, dear brother. How easily you fall into my traps and this one, I can assure you, you won't be climbing out of." She raised her left hand slowly, uncurling her fingers to reveal glowing grains of sand. They seemed to move across her palm, tugging at each other to go left or right. Merlin was drawn to them, the magic and power in those grains was clear. This was old magic mixed with new, but the prevision of Morgana tainted the sight.

Arthur laughed, though it was humourless, and Excalibur was raised in front of him. "Are you going to blow sand at me? I would've thought it would be something a little flashier, a litter more bloody. Running out of sisters to sacrifice for your schemes?"

A scream of rage issues from Morganas lips, blasting Merlin and Arthur off their feet, and flattening the army that raged about them. Merlin's ears were ringing, and he staggered to feet just behind Arthur, who also clambered up.

Morgana was stalking toward Arthur, closing in on him and muttering a complex spell under her breath. The old religion was screaming at Merlin, and the sand rose up creating a small whirlwind as Morganas eyes glowed. Merlin knew that it couldn't be allowed to touch Arthur, and he propelled himself forward, trying to close the gap and knock Arthur out of the way.

"Kill him!" Morgana screamed, breaking off momentarily from her spell as her eyes alighted on Merlin's advancing figure. He didn't notice as a Saxon took up a fallen crossbow, and aimed it at him. He didn't feel the arrow embedded itself him his stomach. He didn't see Arthur try to turn to him to help him; all he saw was the glittering sand that was now flying towards Arthur as Morgana raised her hand at him. There was no time to knock Arthur down so Merlin did the only thing he could, he threw himself in front of Arthur and the sand ripped through him, literally racing through him as it gathered his spirit, and tore it away from his world.

The last thing he saw was Arthur screaming his name.

Merlin felt trapped, his soul tried to get loose from his body but couldn't. Dark images trickled blurrily by him, a future that should have been but wasn't.

_Arthur winning the battle._

_ Returning to Gwen and sealing the victory with a kiss._

_ Merlin saving their lives from Morgana, his eyes fading from gold to blue as Arthur looked on in shock._

_ Morgana falling._

_ Morgana's death._

_ Arthur yelling at Merlin._

_ Arthur with tears down his face._

_ Arthur talking with Gwen._

_ Arthur talking with Gaius._

_ Merlin staring out of the window, his pack stuffed with clothing._

_ Arthur barging in._

_ Merlin becoming the official court sorcerer._

_ Gwen having twins._

_ Arthur, Gwen and Merlin growing old._

_ Merlin at Lake Avalon, sharing a chaste kiss with Freya._

_ Time passing, knights sharing memories, children running._

_ Arthur calling Merlin and idiot._

_ Merlin calling Arthur a prat._

_ A vengeful Mordred marching on Camelot._

_ The final battle approaching a wearied Arthur and Merlin._

_ Arthur kissing Gwen goodbye._

_ A young man who had Arthurs blue eyes and Gwen's curly locks at his father's side._

_ Merlin blasting back enemies._

_ Arthur turning to slow._

_ Arthur falling to Mordred's blade._

_ Merlin killing Mordred._

_ Time passing as Camelot moved on._

_ Merlin lying in the crystal cave, old and wrinkled._

_ Merlin's magic sinking back into the balance of the earth, releasing the title of 'Emrys.'_

_ Merlin approaching Lake Avalon._

_ Arthur, Gwen, Freya, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, Leon, Gaius, Hunith, Balinor, all waiting for him._

The images didn't have time to form, and instead were being shredded by the grains of sand. Time was being rewritten; the future that the old religion had coveted was being undone. Merlin felt himself slipping away, his soul being stripped of its purpose, his body weak and injured. The separation of the two parts began to strain, the darkness was rushing in from all sides, and the promising future of destiny was corrupted. His magic flared against the foreign power, suppressing it from completely crushing everything Merlin was.

He felt his magic gather him in a small cocoon, shielding him from the destructive purpose of Morganas curse. Feelers were sent out amongst the dark, searching for any light until it found a small hole. Grasping onto it, it tugged on that bright spot, enlarging it until it was the size of a small door.

The nothingness disappeared as Merlin fell through it, and all sense returned as his back smacked hard against a grassy surface. With the return of his body, the pain in his stomach reached a new height, and a warm wetness dripped down his side into the dirt. A blinding white light flared around him, sinking into his very skin, visible even through Merlin's closed eyelids.

Merlin gasped in the cool air, his eyes fluttering open as his chest rapidly tried to steady its breathing. Noise was coming back to him now, and from it he could hear footsteps, the tone of voices raised in a questioning panic, and finally screams.

The ground vibrated at someone feel to their knees beside him, and he moaned in pain as shaking hands were thrust against the wound in his side.

"It's okay, stay with me, come on, open your eyes!" A voice commanded with panic, and Merlin's cerulean eyes tethered to a girl with curly hair that rivaled Gwen's. "Help! Over here!" She screamed, and more footsteps became a stampede as a group of people all rushed towards Merlin and mystery girl.

"How did he get in?"

"Who is he?"

"What in the name of Merlin's beard is going on?!"

That caught Merlin's attention, and he visible twitched when his name was used. Several people with bright red hair surrounded him, and a boy about his age with jet black hair.

"Hermione, what happened?" The dark- haired boy asked the one who was stemming Merlin's wound.

"I don't know! I was looking for Crookshanks and he just appeared in this light!" Hermione answered. "He's injured; we need to get him inside."

Several of the older people in the group took on a look of resolution, and moved Hermione gently out of the way before hoisting Merlin up between them. The pain finally spike past what Merlin could bear, and the wave of blackness finally swallowed him.

**I will try to update every week, and reviews, ideas, generally expression of amazement (joking!) is much appreciated. The more comments I receive the greater the spur to write. Also, you people should really check out "Ancient Relics" by TeenMuggle! Its fantastic!**


	2. Old-religion

**Wow! Thanks for all the enthusiasm; it has blown me a little bit off my feet. You guys are wonderful, and I have so many ideas for upcoming chapters! The first few are going to be more dialogue and explanations than a lot of action. I promise that the wait for it will be worth it though! Keep them reviews coming, I read every one and it keeps me going! Anyway, chapter 2, enjoy my darlings.**

**Allon-sy!**

Harry's POV:

He gently drummed his fingers against the surface of Mrs. Weasleys scrubbed table, staring out of the window. The burrow felt so familiar, the home that he had been denied, and yet it hurt to know that soon he would have to leave.

Harry wanted to run, he wanted to hide under a table and emerge a new man; one that didn't have a lightning scar, knobby knees, or a target on his back. He wanted to be able to kiss Ginny without fear of her death, or walk into the Great Hall at Hogwarts freely.

Rubbing his face, he sighed heavily, his emerald eyes unfocused. A hand was gently pressed to his shoulder, and he started turning around, and his hand instinctively going towards his pocket to grasp his phoenix feather wand.

"Calm down, it's only me." Ginny smiled, albeit a little sadly. Her warm hazel eyes were concerned. Harry wished he could pull her into a hug, and have her rest against his chest for that familiar warmth and security, preferably on the comforting grounds of Hogwarts. However, this definitely wasn't the ideal world, and all Harry could do was give her a tight smile.

"I'm fine, just thinking about the wedding." He lied lamely, and by the small narrowing of Ginny's eyes, he knew she saw right through it.

"Right, of course. Well, I'll leave you too it shall I?" haughtily she stalked towards the rickety stare case. He stood, guilt unfurling within his chest, opening his mouth to call her back, apologize, anything, when:

White light flooded through the room, searing Harry's retinas and making him cry out with pain. It danced in his vision, flickering unidentifiable colours, and with it came a power, deep and ancient. His wand that he quickly withdrew from his back pocket heated beneath his fingertips, and a cry from Ginny made him realize that hers was doing the same. In the white, there almost seemed to be pictures, images of nature that trickled away like water, unable to form for Harry to grasp.

The strange magic- for Harry understood that whatever was happening was of a magical nature, though none that he had ever learnt about- was coming from outside, making the glass explode inwards, and Harry turned away, the sheer brightness of it all becoming too much for him to handle, and he shut his eyes.

Cringing he bashed his knee into the table while rising his wand arm higher. He felt a viscous lick of pleasure about finally being 17, and free to use his magic at will. Still, the meeting he had had yesterday with the minister did not sit well in conscious.

He could hear yelling, panic, and chaos all echoing from upstairs. He groped blindly for a recognizable surface, when he met warm hands and grasped them. Small pants issuing from her mouth identified her as Ginny, and he pulled her too him, despite the fact that if there was any serious threat, there was nothing he could do to protect her.

"What the blimey hell was that?!" Ron's voice was loud, clearing following a group of people down the stairs.

"Ginny?! Harry?! Are you all right?!" Mrs. Weasleys voice was bordering on hysterical, other voice joined in her questioning, Harry only vaguely recognizing Lupin, Tonks, Hagrid, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley.

He blinked open his eyes slowly, blurrily he took in his surroundings like a man coming up from a deep and arduous sleep. Ginny was being embraced fiercely by her mother, but her hand was still in his and he released it as though it had burnt. He pretended to ignore the look of hurt that flashed across her face, or the sharp-eyed glare Ron sent him. He nodded, but turned to face the shattered window as Lupin passed him to peer outside.

Then they heard the scream, "Hermione!" Gasped Ron, going pale behind his freckles "She was looking for Crookshanks…" The adults took the lead as they headed outside, Mrs. Weasley briefly stopping to try and pull rank on Harry, Ron, and Ginny to keep them inside, as well as a bemused Fred who appeared from his ailing brother's room. Of course they didn't listen to her; Hermione was Harry's best friend, and he wasn't about to sit inside when she was under a threat from something that could've been potentially set to harm him.

It was almost too dark outside, the usually wild garden of the Burrow looked forlorn in its recent remodeling for the wedding. The shadows of the tents were pitched against the night sky, and the large field of wheat swayed ominously in the distance.

Everyone's eyes, and feet, were drawn to the same thing though. The white light was fading from the man's skin, but it was obvious he had been the original source. Hermione was crouched beside him, her stuttered words reaching their ears. The Order of the Phoenix gathered around the prone form, and Harry kneeled to observe the new addition.

The man was pale, almost bone white (which unfortunately reminded him of Voldemort) though he seemed alabaster rather than skeleton. His hair was as black as Harry's, but his eyes were a shocking blue; glazed with pain they were still deeper, and more mysterious than even Dumbledore's had been. Questions were being thrown around unanswered, and Tonks gasped as she took in Hermione's bloodied hands, which were currently pushed against the man's wound.

"Hermione, what happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't know! I was looking for Crookshanks and he just appeared in this light!" Hermione answered. "He's injured; we need to get him inside."

Lupin and Mr. Weasley came forward while Ron gently drew Hermione away, though her eyes were still bright with worry and fear. As soon as their hands got under the mysterious man, he went limp, clearing passing out from pain.

* * *

"Well, Kingsley should be here any minute, as well as McGonagall. Unfortunately the minister," Mrs. Weasley's lips twisted slightly "Has seen fit to also send Dawlish, to re-assess our wards. Whatever brought the boy through was powerful magic." She glanced over with a weary concern to the teenager sprawled upon the magiced stretcher.

Lupin and Tonks, aided by a shaky Hermione and anxious Ron were tending to him. Both had their wands raised, muttering incantations to dispel infection, and to stop the bleeding. Lupin had drawn a sharp breath when he had seen that the man had an arrow thrust through him. It made Harry think of knights and medieval stuff that he had never paid attention to in a History of Magic.

"Hermione, Ron, can you remove his shirt?" Tonks asked, turning away to pick up a small bottle of the essence of dittany.

"What the hell?" Ron said loudly, and the group who lingered in the shadows rushed forward, only to be met by the same site as Ron.

"How is he even alive?" Ginny asked in a hushed voice.

Scars littered the pale body, long thin silver like trails, like the kisses of knives; others were puckered and raised, each at varying levels of discoloration, white to pink. A large, grotesque burn lay over the man's heart. All in all it looked like he had been dragged through hell and back, several times over.

"These look like there were caused by a sword…" Charlie trailed off, and shook himself, leaning over and plucking the bottle from Tonks, he adeptly applied the solution to the more recent collection of battle scars, and breathed a sigh of relief as new skin instantly crawled over the surface. No one seemed quite sure what to do, but the awkward silence was thankfully spared by several popping sounds of apparition drifting in from outside.

More animation leaked into the room, and Harry Ron and Hermione drew away to their respective corner. Outside, Mr. Weasley was filling in the new guests.

"What exactly happened?" Harry asked Hermione, in a low voice.

She looked flushed, her hands playing nervously with a small beaded bag in her hand. "I'm not too sure," she began cautiously. "I was around the bank of the Burrow, looking for Crookshanks. He likes chasing the gnomes- Sorry Ron. Anyways, there was this massive light, it hurt even when I turned away from it and this rushing sound as though there was something really powerful rushing through me. I ran back around just as the light was fading, and there he was, just lying there! I- It was so awful, he was awake and kept muttering something about 'The old religion is broken' though I don't think he was too aware of that part. He was losing so much blood."

Ron squeezed her hand where he still held it. She blushed but didn't move hers from his, and instead firmly caught both of their eyes again.

"Whatever it was, it was powerful. That was… pure magic, an essence that none of us, not even V- Voldemort could manage. Also the fact that he kept mention the old religion… I feel like I've read that term somewhere."

Ron rolled his eyes at the mention of books, and the tense mood that had been between them since the ordeal was broken. Harry sagged against the counter, Hermione stopped playing with her bag, and Ron grinned sheepishly.

"Well, Merlin knows what happened, but Kingsley and McGonagall are here. They'll know what's going on." He spoke with confidence.

Harry couldn't help but not feel reassured by the faith his mate seemed to possess, a shared look with Hermione confirmed that she too agreed. The boy who was unconscious was probably their age, maybe a year or so older. A blanket had been drawn around him, but Lupin still lingered nearby with his wand in case anything should be attempted.

The thought was unlikely.

It was clear that the teen was naturally pale, but he seemed almost grey with blood loss, and he was as thin as Harry, even more so. He was also taller, with cheekbones that slashed across his face strikingly. Despite his deep slumber, there was an air about him, something that made everyone in the room on edge. It was a sense of subconscious realization that the event of him bleeding in the Weasley's garden would be a bigger even then they could yet comprehend. His young age did nothing to diminish an ancient power that cloaked him in mystery and confusion. Harry kept thinking of the small glimpse he had gotten of his eyes, they had seemed to know so much, much more then someone his age should, more knowledgeable even compared with Dumbledore. This gut feeling that took Harry shook him too his core.

The sharp edge of the counter was digging into Harry's back, but he felt no need to move. His green eyes were unfocused, and a feeling of helplessness crashed in his heart. He was so determined to fight, to beat Voldemort and secure a future for those he loved, but at the same time he was Harry- Just Harry. What power did he really have?

Magic was unpredictable, he knew that it had both light and dark within its capabilities; couple that with a powerful, evil wizard, and the force became virtually unstoppable. He knew his task: destroy the horcruxes, but this new magic, the one that had come with the strange man, it frightened him. No one could name it, and if this was a new ploy used by Voldemort, nothing would stand in his way.

"- if he's a death eater, perhaps Azkaban. The Dementor's are gone, but it would still be a place to keep him away from everyone." Kingsley Shacklebolt slow voice was serious and preceded him as he entered the room, followed closely by McGonagall and Mr. Weasley.

Lupin rose calmly, from where he had been sitting. "He doesn't bare the dark mark."

"That is all very well," McGonagall was as sharp as always, glancing severely around the room until it rested- with a hint of softening- on the unnamed man. "He could be anyone and the use of clear dark magic to penetrate the wards… I doubt even Dumbledore could have done it."

"Perhaps we should just wait until he wakes up. He has no wand, we checked. His is still healing, and he is young. He could simply be another victim." Lupin offered mildly.

"I believe that is agreeable," Kingsley answered diplomatically, and Tonks gave a warm smile to her husband. "Dawlish will be staying, on the ministers orders."

"Brilliant." Harry said flatly in an undertone, his dislike of Scrimgeour evident; Ron snickered.

* * *

Misty sunlight was beginning to appear through threadbare curtains, signaling early morning. Harry had only been in bed about 2 hours, the events of the previous night had put him on edge, and sleep hadn't come easy. He had been lazily changing the colour of Ron's ceiling to keep himself amused, as the latter, Fred, and George, had all fallen asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

Sighing he rolled out of bed, and pulled on jeans and a shirt, plodding quietly from the room. Soft sounds could be heard drifting from downstairs, and he wondered how Lupin was doing, as he had volunteered to be on guard duty all evening.

McGonagall and Kingsley had left around 3a.m. after many complicated spells to try and figure out the exact magic used to transport the boy inside the protective enchantments of the burrow. It had been unnerving, because all the testing had been sound: none of the charms had been broken, or apparently disturbed by the fact a man had just popped into existence on the lawn.

Hermione had played around with many theories, but she kept returning to the whole 'old- religion' mumbo jumbo. Harry had decided to leave that up to her and not get too involved in her searching, though he himself was undeniable interested.

The smell of warm food finally dispelled the last of any worries as Harry descended the last of the stairs, and he took a moment just to appreciate the sense of family that the burrow offered him.

Mrs. Weasley in her tartan dressing gown, making her army sized breakfast (this time it was actually needed) Lupin sitting at the table with the morning paper, while Tonks lay sprawled across the couch asleep. Surprisingly Fred was awake too, the bandages wrapped around his head hid the wound he had received in early July- Harry still felt a pang of guilt every time he saw it.

The man still lay unconscious.

"Has he woken up at all?" Harry asked quietly, and Mrs. Weasley squawked with surprise.

"Oh Harry dear! Gave me a fright. No- no he hasn't. He's started moving a little bit though, so I suspect soon."

"Won't Kingsley or Professor McGonagall want to be here when he does?" Fred looked curious.

"No, I talked with them. If there is a threat we can send for help easily enough, subduing one injured man shouldn't be too difficult either. I told them I would let them know if any new developments occurred." Serene as always, Lupin smiled kindly at Harry.

At that moment, a moan froze them all in their spots.

Lupin was on his feet in a moment, rushing over to Tonks and shaking her awake. She was up and alert, and both drew their wands, but kept them lowered. Fred moved to stand a little in front of his mother, but still close enough to see anything that happened. Harry jumped off the last step, and moved to stand by Lupin's side.

The boy moved sluggishly, his hands unconsciously brushing against his stomach where the wound had been. He rolled his head, seeming to fight his way to the surface of awareness, and his face scrunched as his eyes peered open and then snapped closed at the light.

They waited a few minutes as he dared to slowly open and close his eyes again, accustoming to the bright sun that was now dominant in the lower levels of the Burrow.

Suddenly he gasped, and shot bolt upright, an expression of pure panic filling his features. He made to move off the stretcher, but hissed in pain, his arms clutching around his midriff. Tonks raised her wand, pointing it at him warningly as Lupin moved closer to help. The boy seemed to realize he was not alone, and looked at them wildly.

"Where am I?" His voice was pleasant, with a littering accent that Harry had never heard before, but bespoke of English, he flinched away from Lupin's outstretched arm until the man stepped back from him again.

"You don't know?" Fred asked incredulous, the boy shook his head. "Oh, well you kinda just appeared in the middle of our garden bleeding to death. After you made your way past our wards to prevent people from doing just that." His voice had a sarcastic edge.

"Magic?" He breathed, agitation was clear.

"You do know about magic, right?" a dubious Fred responded, the boy nodded sharply, but for some reason still looked glazed.

"So you're all sorcerers?" He asked, taking them all in.

"That is an old- fashioned term for us, most go by Witch or Wizard today."

"Today? Oh my god, what day is it?!" The panic was back.

"Erm… August 5." Harry spoke for the first time, and the boys intense blue eyes fixed on him, and raked him up in down, taking in his old jeans and ragged shirt. His eyes then rolled about the room, his lips becoming thinner and thinner.

"I think it's been a little more than 2 days…" He whispered to himself. "..and the year?" he choked out. All exchanged shocked glances.

"1996."

"Oh." The boy promptly laid back down, his eyes closed, body ridged, one arm around his stomach and the other covering his face. Harry shifted awkwardly, aware of the necessity to question him, but not quite sure how to start, so he decided to start with the basics.

"What's your name?" He attempted a light tone, ignoring the warning he got from Mrs. Weasley as he moved closer.

The boy uncovered his face, and looked at him for a moment, before opening his mouth, and answering. "My name is…."

**Thank you to all the beautiful people reading my attempt at this story! Sorry about the cliffhanger, but I got to think of something fantastical way to keep you coming don't I? I hope you are enjoying what I have so far, and any ideas or suggestions please feel free to share. I shall update next week. Keep them reviews coming, and feel free to spread the link around! **


	3. Saftey First

**I am so sorry for the later update! I had this chapter done at the usual time last week, but my computer decided it wanted to update automatically, and I lost everything. Made me pretty mad, but this past week was the last week before spring break, and all my school scholarship applications were due on Friday, so I literally had no time to work on it… Anyways, I have no homework over the next 2 weeks of freedom (yaayyyyy!) so the next chapter will be hopefully be out in the next couple days to make up for the mishap! Anyways, not much action, but I want to build the story instead of rushing in blindly. Promise some next chapter!**

**Allon-sy!**

Merlin POV:

Merlin's first thought upon waking was that he was entirely too warm. He knew he had been injured, and gravely, and generally when waking from those wounds came along with the casual side- effects of fever, sever pain, nausea, and the horrible feeling of icy weightlessness. This was different however, he felt heavy, but pleasantly so, and sunlight played across his closed eyelids. Merlin gently flexed his body, taking into account his stiff muscles, indicating he probably hadn't moved in a while. Struggling to raise his hand, he haphazardly brushed it against his stomach, trying to assess a wound that he no long felt.

_The girl!_ He realized, and gasping, he shot up; trying to swing his legs off the surface he lay on in a panic. His thoughts were incoherent, apart from strays like:

_Battle_

_Morgana_

_Emptiness_

The fuzziness faded from his vision, and he realized that he was not alone. Instead he found himself faced with five people- two women and three men. The older man closest to Merlin took a step forward with his arm outstretched, but Merlin flinched backward, wary of the strangeness of the man. As his eyes roved around them wildly, he noticed as only a servant would that the material of their clothing was strange yet obviously sturdy, soft, and _expensive._ It bespoke of great wealth, but there were patches in the folds, the ends of the red- haired women's were frayed, as though the garments were not worth such a great upkeep. Not only that, but they were all wearing robes which reminded him of a less mysterious version of the druids outfits.

This was not Merlin's only clue that things were wrong; the greatest thing that hit him was the wave of magic emitting from each individual in front of him.

They were all magic.

However, it was a kind of magic that seemed watered down, tamed, practically submissive. His own magic felt superior in the most basic sense of existing. If it wasn't for the fact that some pots were scrubbing themselves clean in a weird metallic basin, he would have assumed that they had no knowledge of their abilities. The fact that they did access it meant that they had some sort of conductor, not unlike Gillis ring.

Curiously, Merlin sent out a small tendril of magic towards the group. Its golden light was invisible to all but him. It thrummed with power, and gave off its own feelings of curiosity and wariness. Slight wisps broke off from the main branch to brush up against unfamiliar objects, registering the basic purpose based on the memories of touches- and then sending the information back to Merlin.

It was times like these that he was thrilled that his magic was so instinctive. He could get a feel of everyone, and prepare for any necessary defense or offense without them being any the wiser. True, the felt no immediate threat, but the presence of protection that emitted from all five members in front of him could not be ignored.

The first tendril hit the man who had reached out to Merlin initially. He had sandy brown hair that was greying, and kind but melancholy brown eyes. Scars littered his face, and there were creases in his skin that was uncommon for a man of his age. The gold turned a silvery blue as it coiled around him, reflecting the man's aura. A pulse was sent down the line, and Merlin withheld his surprise- because this man's magic was eerily similar to Freya's: cursed.

Behind him was a woman who Merlin had unashamedly stared at when he had first looked; because her hair was an unnatural and shocking vibrant pink. She leaned forward into the man, and it was obvious that they were together. Her aura was difficult to grasp, and he thread of his own magic turned clear when it touched her. It felt like he was trying to hold something slippery, and many different shapes and textures flickered beneath his coil. Despite the foggy sense he had of her, Merlin could tell that there was something very solid and real beneath the exterior.

The sandy- haired man had moved forward again, and Merlin was drawn out of his musings, reality sharply alerting him of his need for focus.

"Where I am?" he asked, slightly congratulating himself on the even tones of his voice.

"You don't know?" a tall ginger-haired boy spoke from the back of the room. He was without a doubt related the motherly woman who he stood protectively in front of. "Oh, well you kinda just appeared in the middle of our garden bleeding to death. After you made your way past our wards to prevent people from doing just that." His voice had a sarcastic edge.

Merlin already knew that there was forces at work, but he needed confirmation all the same. "Magic?"

"You do know about magic, right?" Merlin nodded, but felt strange being able to talk about magic so openly with people he didn't know.

"So you're all sorcerers?" He asked recounting their numbers, and even felt the presence of more magical users above him.

"That is an old- fashioned term for us, most go by Witch or Wizard today." The mind closest spoke.

Old-fashioned? Merlin quickly reassessed everything- the strangeness of clothing, building, and magic. It was too different for him to have simply been transported to another kingdom. "Today? Oh my god, what day is it?!"

A thin black haired boy answered, "Erm… August 5" his voice was soft, expressionless- but his green eyes were clear and intelligent. There was a weight on his shoulders, which reminded Merlin a lot of himself. The golden tendril of his magic that wrapped around the boy turned a fiery golden- red, but the stain of darkness was also upon it; but it was not the boy's own.

"I think it's been a little more than 2 days…" Merlin whispered to himself, and then stumbled over the dreaded words that his magic was forcing him to ask. "..and the year?"

"1996."

Merlin was not aware of responding. It had been over _1000 year_s. He couldn't think, everything felt dizzy and unreal. All he wanted to do was thump his head back into the table until the dream faded and he awoke to Arthur yelling at him about being late or forgetting to polish his armour.

_Arthur._ He was dead by now.

Arthur was dead.

Merlin was alone.

"What's your name?" The question was innocent, but it was as though his magic had slapped him out of his panic, alerting him to the slight shaking of the objects on the shelves. Calming himself, Merlin knew he could not answer truthfully- but he did not know why. His magic felt like it was boiling from his inside, the highest warning to could give in precarious situations.

"My name is Merrick." At least he would keep the M.

"I'm Harry." The b- Harry said, moving forward and brushing off a hissed caution and holding out his hand. Merlin took it, feeling for the first time since he woke up that this was familiar territory. He shook it, and smiled.

The tension rushed out of the room quickly, the small act of normalcy putting everyone from offense to defense. Names were quickly given out, and Merlin memorized each one easily as it was something he had to do every time a new pompous lord or lady visited court.

Fred settled back into a rickety chair, and Mrs. Weasley unwrapped the bandages from her sons head, and applied a strong mixture to the gaping wound whose fumes would've made even Gaius cringe. Merlin had been allowed to move from the table- top a table chair, but he still made sure to keep everyone within sight. Tonks had gone upstairs to "Wake the others up." while Lupin, after sending a patronus (whatever that was) to summon a man named Kingsley- had settled to mildly interrogating Merlin.

Harry hovered behind Lupin, but would smile a little when he caught Merlin's eye, though he remained distant.

"I don't wish to push too soon Merrick," Lupin started. "But it is vital to the safety of our friends and family here that we know how you got past our wards and how you came to be injured- with an arrow no less. Powerful dark magic is the only thing they would have had a chance at making a dent in those barriers, yet you made it past without taking them down. Are you the side of the death eaters?" The words were calm but intense. Merlin shifted in his seat, feeling the phantom pain of where his would had previously been. He hadn't understood a lot of what Lupin had said, though he gathered that an arrow was also 'old-fashioned' and that a death- eater was not a pleasant category to be placed in. What was a death eater? He doubted it was the literal term, since the idea was absurd- and magic was too limited to even hold that power.

He got a sudden mental image of Morgana hovering over a plate of rotted meat, and shuddered.

Meeting Lupin's gaze steadily, and adopted an innocent and open expression, though his features remained grave.

"I don't know how I got through the barriers, but I promise you on my mother's memory," A pang went through him at the thought of Hunith. "that I mean no harm to anyone here. I was running from the death eaters," Merlin hoped he was saying the right things, trusting the nudge of his magic which hadn't lead him astray when he had stopped Arthur killing Uther. "when I was injured. I think one of them conjured a weapon and it just happened to be what hit me. Next thing I know is waking up here."

Lupin opened his mouth to respond, but there was a loud clap of hands, and a young man whom was the identical image of Fred- down to the last freckle- appeared from the staircase.

"I sense a story in the making!" He crowed, going to stand behind his twin. "I'm George."

Bringing up the rear behind George was the Hermione, (he remembered from before) a ginger boy who was obviously related to the others (Merlin was getting the feeling that his was the Weasley house) his sister, and from the back door entered a mountain of large tangled black hair.

"Hagird!" Moaned Mrs. Weasley, as a floorboard snapped beneath his weight. A guilty chuckled emitted from Hagird. Merlin tried not to stare.

* * *

Harry POV:

Harry had been given a chair closest to Merrick, as he seemed more comfortable with Harry around. Lupin was also on the other side, more to be the main line of defense in case the unknown decided to become a raving psychopath. Luckily Harry deemed that unlikely because of what he could see; Merrick didn't even possess a wand.

Kingsley had arrived half an hour ago, and in tow he had brought Mr. Weasley, Percy, and Charlie. Dawlish had come on decree of the minister- but nobody really wanted him there and he had been bullied by the twins into patrolling the garden – "because we all know how secure those wards are if a bean sprout can get through!" Fred had joked, eyeing Merrick and winking.

Fred and George had taken to Merrick quickly, joking around and lightening the atmosphere. They also didn't pry into any personal information, which seemed to visibly appear whenever Lupin pushed. They had decided to hold off a real discussion until the delegates from the ministry had arrived, via Kingsley, and the rest of the current burrow party. Now they had all cramped around the scrubbed wooden table, though Mrs. Weasley had refused to sit, insisting that her job would be best making sure the tea and food never lowered below the overflowing point.

Mr. Weasley had graciously offered Kingsley the head of the table, which he accepted with good grace, and sat facing Merrick with an unusually stern expression. McGonagall had appeared at some point also, and she had neatly settled on Kingsley's left. The rest of the group had awkwardly stuffed themselves into position, and the air had been alive with the sound of scraping chairs as they all fought the limited space to face Merrick.

Harry saw him swallow nervously.

"First off Mr…?" McGonagall's voice cut through the murmuring, and every eye was fixed on Merrick.

"Iseldier, Mr. Iseldier." Merrick's voice was steady, but his deep blue gaze was too much like Dumbledore's for Harry to trust. He knew where that blind faith had lead too, a pile of secrets. Merrick was no exception, and he was different for he had proved nothing to the order to make them trust him.

"Mr. Iseldier, the obvious question is how you got through the wards." She continued her eyes beady.

"I spoke to Mr. Lupin-"

"Just Remus is okay." Interjected Lupin kindly.

"Er, right- Remus, earlier, and I can say with full honesty that I have no idea. I don't really know where I was when I was attacked, and the last thing I can really remember is being shot, and then using my magic to transport me anywhere that was safe."

"Magic has been more volatile lately…." Charlie piped up, glancing around the table.

McGonagall snapped back. "There is a difference between an unstable spell and completely bypassing one as though you're immune. I have also never heard of a 'Merrick Iseldier' attending Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry before yet you are….?"

"I'm 17..." Merrick answered slowly, and Harry could tell he had no idea where this was going.

"Then you should be in Hogwarts yet you have never attended."

"It was just my mum and I, but she didn't trust the wizarding world much because she had no magic. She thought it was best I stayed closer to home, and had an old friend of our family teach me instead. In her mind, it was safer." He shrugged.

"Is that where you learnt about the old- religion?" Hermione moved to stand forward, cutting off McGonagall's reply. It was obvious that the acting headmistress did not trust him, neither did anyone else. Though some like Mrs. Weasley and Lupin seemed to be accepting of his story, just on edge around him.

Merrick fidgeted in his seat, but his eyes met Hermione's steadily, and he seemed to be weighing something internally. Kingsley was frowning in confusion, and no one had any recognition on their faces for the term Hermione had brought forward.

"Yes, it was the foundation of the magic I was taught. It is what lies behind the exterior, and what makes us all magic users."

Hermione looked as though Christmas had come early, or an extremely long essay which she would try to convince everyone that it was really fascinating.

"I have never heard of that before! Not in the American wizarding society or in Asia's."

Kingsley however was not of the same opinion, and he quickly shut down the topic. "It is most likely a version of magic that is entwined with muggle superstitions. Your case is most unusual Mr. Iseldier; can you tell us what happened to make you end up here?"

Looking down at his tightly clasped hands, Merrick's voice was low as he didn't meet any of their curious eyes. "I went away for a while to travel with the man who was teaching me. I wasn't there when it happened…. But I guess she had been dead a fair amount of time. I had left my tutor at the previous city, planning to meet up with him later on, but when I came back he was gone, but the death eaters were there and… you know the rest." Though the grief was thick and honest in his throat, Harry felt as if the story was lacking, vague on details as though he had none to give. He didn't believe that this man was a threat, but then again Harry had been deceived before by Quirrel and the fake Mad- Eye. Nevertheless something told Harry to not dispel whatever Merrick had to offer to easily.

"Merlin's beard... That's awful mate." Ron spoke without hostility, running his fingers through his hair. Merrick jumped and stared wildly at him, his eyes almost perfectly round and. There were dark rings beneath his eyes, and he was even competing with Harry to see who could be skinnier.

Silence fell across the table, as Mrs. Weasley gave a big sniff and handed around mugs of tea, even gently patting Merrick on the back as she passed gently- he looked flabbergasted. Tonks wore a troubled expression, and Lupin gently took her hand on top of the table. Everyone here knew how common death was these days, but it would never fail to cause the same ripple of sadness and anger.

Harry caught Ginny's eye across the table, and reflected in her eyes was his own deep melancholy. Feeling as though this was the moment, he offered a small smile, in which she returned. Beneath the table Harry fingered his phoenix- feathered wand, it felt warmer than usual. Frowning, he moved his arm to the right, away from Merrick and it cooled slightly. Moving it back towards him the wood warmed.

He filed that information away for later.

Kingsley, McGonagall, and the older members of the order had withdrawn into a corner, whispering amongst themselves and casting Merrick the odd glance now and again. He seemed to not notice, his eyes fixed unseeingly upon the table. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione, and they shared a loaded glance of indecision and determination to solve yet another mystery. Footsteps alerted the rest of the members that a choice had been made, and Merrick looked up impassively to meet Kingsley's intelligent eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay with this Arthur, Molly?" He asked, not turning to them. Merrick twitched again.

"Of course- it's the safest place, for us and him." Mrs. Weasley assured to a confused group. Merrick opened his mouth to ask, but Kingsley held out a hand to cut him off.

"It is safer for you to stay here, at the burrow for the moment. We don't know how you got past the impregnable charm, and it would be safer to keep you where we can see you. I also believe you are not telling us everything-"

"I have told you everything that you need to know, and that affects you." The challenge was firm.

McGonagall's lips tightened.

"I understand." Kingsley continued slowly, there was now respect in his referral as well. "It is also safer for you to stay here. We could move you too a safe house, but as you have no known relatives?" Merrick nodded in confirmation. "Then wasting a ministry detail would be counterproductive. For now, here is best. Of course you will be expected to help out when needed, and you are not allowed to leave the premises."

Unnerving blue eyes met each pair in the room individually, before Merrick bowed his head once in acceptance. Everyone shifted awkward, unsure as what to do now. Hermione was obviously itching to talk with Merrick, undeterred by the easy dismissal of her new-found topic earlier. Kingsley and Mr. Weasley had to return to the Ministry, and Harry just really needed to speak with his friends.

Suddenly George kicked out the legs of Fred's chair from where he had been leaning on its back two legs. A large smash followed by even louder curses shattered the frozen atmosphere, and life trickled back into the kitchen.

The air was different though, it brought with it the promise of change, and power. Merrick lifted his eyes to stare out the window, and Harry could've sworn that as the dipping sun spilled through the window, that his eyes flashed gold.

**So much dialogue! Hope I did some justice to the characters, as it was very difficult to rewrite after last week. Next chapter will have a hint of action, and the one after will definitely have a good amount (as it will be the wedding!) Hope the backstory seems necessary to you guys. I will hopefully have the next chapter up by this Friday, so please accept my sacrifice of 2 chapters within a couple days of each other. Fair warning to you all- I am going to switch a little of the story around in Merlin to accommodate this one, so don't hate me when the changes are made! Please review, and don't be afraid to share any ideas or scenes that you would like to see! Until next time! **


	4. The Arthurian Fables

**I AM SORRY. Okay- so from here on out I cannot promise when and updates will come, but I will get at least 2 out a month for sure. I really tried but I am swamped in my final year at school, and work, and sleeping- Seriously, someone forgot to mention how much this year takes out of you! I am also going for my N test soon, so I have been driving like mad in my spare time- wish me luck for it anyways. Also to be fair, my chapters are a fair length (I try to keep them around 3000 words) so forgive me?!**

**I promised action, so does introduction to where the action is going to be count?! A tidbit to the real fun that is going to come up later on I guess you could say. Anyways, after the next chapter I'll be updating a little wonky- albeit in my speech it means that I will try to get at least 3 to 4 chapters in a month, but the exact time of each is not guaranteed. I will be going into my final term of high school and I have to focus on keeping up my grades so that my university decides that my average is no longer high enough to attend! Anyways- this will pretty much be the final part of the backstory/ Merlin learning about the new world. Be warned, I am going to change some things from the original Merlin and Harry Potter stories to fit my work, so if you don't like then I apologize but it shall stay!**

**Allon-sy!**

Merlin POV:

_Founded at the turn of 1000 A.D. (though the precise date is unknown) Hogwarts brought about a new era in which truly made magic its own division from the lifestyle of 'muggles.' It not only allowed children a safe environment in which to learn and develop their magic, but also taught control- allowing witches and wizards alike to hide from fearful witch hunts and use their magic to build stable lives for themselves. The founding of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the greatest settlement for magical folk since the days of an illustrious and mythical Camelot. _

_Documented work proves the existence of King Arthur Pendragon, Queen Guinevere Pendragon, and the unparalleled power of Merlin Emrys which brought about several lifetimes of magic and non- magic folk co-existing peacefully side by side; however, a few generations after King Arthur's death, witch hunts began to tear the land apart and the people of magic once again fell into disarray and fear. _

_The beginning of Hogwarts would pave the way for an entire civilization of witches and wizards, including several branches of the Ministry of Magic, International Statute of Secrecy, and an established form of magic that became the norm and overtook the oppressed magic of our predecessors that was virtually uncontrollable. _

Merlin's eyes hurt; the kind of pain that reminded him of when he tracked across the perilous lands to retrieve a life- sucking bracelet from a certain blonde prat. All he had gotten from that journey was a bruised body and an abnormal amount of sand- scorched eyeballs. Not to mention the entire meeting with the Fisher King. That had left him with a big headache and so much to think about that he had taken several weeks before it had virtually commuted into something he could even begin to fathom.

Merlin felt as if he was facing the exact same dilemma now.

Left to his own in the burrow, he had quietly extracted himself from the chair, and had gone virtually unnoticed the only unoccupied corner of the Burrow. It was for a few reasons:

1. He no longer wished to endure the stares of the counterparts who also shared the room

2. Harry, Hermione, and their friend who had learned was named Ron had disappeared shortly after sending him some narrow- eyed glances.

3. He had quickly come to the conclusion that Molly Weasley was worse than Guinevere and his mother combined when it came to forcing food down his throat; and:

4. A large and rickety book shelf had caught his eye.

Warm wood was sanded down with age and wear, slightly stooped under the sheer number of books that was piled on each shelf. There was no rhyme or reason to the collection- some were cooking books; another was "_Lockhart's Guide to deal with Household Pests." _A thick volume labeled "_Hogwarts: A History"_ had caught his eye, the memory of it being mentioned several times during his interrogation had caused Merlin to develop a healthy curiosity about what exactly a 'Hogwarts' was.

After reading the first paragraph, a coppery taste worked his way into his senses, and he wiped his hand across his mouth. Several smears of red greeted his eyes, and his own blood just caused the numbness to be even more real. Without thinking about it, his eyes flashed and the small tears on his lips healed.

Merlin had always known that Arthur would be a great king, renowned by all- and that together an age of prosperity and peace would be wrought to the people of Camelot. Surely, this passage proved that he would find a way to return home, and that Arthur would accept magic, accept **him.** The very thought made Merlin giddy, by the knowledge that all the sacrifices that had occurred in the years that Merlin had served Arthur would still not stretch for eternity was a little painful.

Idly stroking the strange texture of the pages in the book, he stared off unblinkingly out of the window. Disappointment thrummed through him that the two- sides of humanity couldn't learn to work together, as a whole for the benefit of all. At the same time, there was a guilty relief. No longer would his people be exiled without a hope for shelter. There was now an entire world dedicated just for his kind, with its own justice and sense of order.

This had been his and Arthur's destiny all along- to inspire the future generations to devise this plan which would allow a peaceful- if separate- works in the future.

Merlin guessed that counted for something.

Raising his gaze back to the bookshelf, a clean line of brightly bound books caught his eye. Unlike the rest of the shelves, this was organized and burnished clearly. They looked like well- loved, and important beyond symbolic value. Each cover was embellished with a bright gold sheen, trimmed in a very familiar, Pendragon red. There were 5 of them, roughly around the same size and lay in the dead center of the bookcase. Merlin was surprised that this hadn't been the first thing his eye had been drawn too, though to be fare it was a bit below his immediate eye- level.

Sliding a _'Hogwarts: A History" _back into its proper spot, he reached out a long- fingered hand and brushed the spines, a warm tingle of energy responded with a warm acknowledgment, it gave him a deep feeling of home- sickness and comfort, which overall left him in a rather strange mind-set.

A shadow fell across Merlin, and he turned to see Harry and Hermione standing with sheepish expressions. In the background Ron was arguing with his mother about potato peeling.

Hermione brushed past Harry to stand a little tentatively at Merlin's side, but her posture became more business-like (which reminded him of Arthur dealing with visiting nobles) when she saw what he was looking at.

"Oh! The Arthurian Fables!" she exclaimed.

Merlin felt his jaw drop, "The _what_?"

Harry POV:

Harry pushed his chair away from the table turning to share looks with Hermione and Ron, and silently they headed outside. He quickly took the natural lead, and Harry tried to keep his thoughts lax as the ground stooped softly underfoot.

He stopped at the border of the fidelius charm, and narrowed his eyes against the brightness.

The fields of wheat ran on far, swaying in a warm breeze across the achingly familiar and homely landscape. It was so serene, beautiful and endless; the burrow sat in the center of the rolling hills of green.

This was what Harry craved- a simple life where he could be around people who cared about him and not his name. A life where he was expected to do nothing more than chip into the chores of life, he could use his magic freely, not for defense of loved ones or himself.

A hand on his shoulder jerked him from his self- induced panic state, and Harry turned to face the concerned eyes of Hermione.

"I'm afraid." She whispered, Ron standing stoically behind her- though his shifting from foot to foot belayed his nervousness.

"What if Merrick was a test of Voldemort's- not that he was sent by him," Harry added hastily as Ron opened his mouth looking mutinous "but a test of a new spell he found that is so powerful it overrides ministry protection, and Merrick was just a vessel used. How can we fight that?!"

Ron roughly gripped his arm, shaking him a little. "Listen mate, calm down okay? Vold- Damn it! You- Know- Who is powerful, we already got that down; but if Merrick was a test, then wouldn't he need to get him back to see exactly how the spell worked? Sending him through to test a spell would be pretty useless if they wouldn't be able to check the results, right?"

It was one of those rare moments, when the sun hits the sloping curve of the earth at the exact right angle, and for a single second- everything is illuminated in balance with what makes it opposite. Despite the fact that Ron could be pig- headed, and act quickly in moments of passionate anger, he had rare moments that allowed him to detach from those who tended to over- analyze. He saw the world just as it was, and it was a talent that was taken for granted.

So when Harry and Hermione gaped at him as the sheer obviousness of the situation hit them, they couldn't help but share in one of those moments where they became three friends, standing on a patchy lawn in the eye of a lidless sun, and created the greatest moment with joined laughter.

Eventually they sprawled across from one another, and Harry was reminded greatly of spending afternoons in Hogwarts under their favourite beach tree. Unfortunately it also brought Harry back to the present, and the task that loomed ever closer- the search for the Horcruxes. Tucking his chin on his knees, he fixed his friends in a serious grasp.

"Listen, I know I said you could come with me, but I think you guys should stay here. I know that it would make Ms. Weasley feel better, and Hermione- don't think you can fool me, I know how much you want to return to Hogwarts."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tutted impatiently. "And I know how sick of this ridiculous argument I am getting. We are coming Harry James Potter- best get over it." She sniffed.

Ron echoed a muffled hear hear, his nose turned in the direction of the smell of wafting dinner.

"While we're on the subject of arguments!" Hermione overrode Harrys protest loudly. "Merrick is not under immediate suspicious, but I do however think there is something he is not telling us. He seemed too knowledgeable in areas he shouldn't have been, but conveniently claimed ignorance when we asked for answers. I think we should try talking to him again. It might be easier if there isn't an angry pack of wolves surrounding him this time."

"Yea, he seemed a little shifty." Ron agreed readily.

Harry rolled his shoulders and stood. "Fair enough."

The three of them vacated the flattened patches of grass and made their way back inside, blinking against the sudden darkness that accompanied the light change.

The first thing that greeted them was a waving potato peeler, "There you are! I have been up to my elbows trying to get dinner together- lord knows I didn't expect the time to fly by so fast during the talk," Mrs. Weasley looked harried, and she grabbed onto Ron's arm and ordered "Peel the rest of these."

Leaving him to argue with her, Harry and Hermione made their way over to the tall, lanky figure of Merrick where he was surprisingly standing next to the forlorn bookshelf. Harry watched as he reached out a hand, and brushed it along the Arthurian Fables- and shiver ran up his back.

"Oh! The Arthurian Fables!" Hermione exclaimed happily, as she went to stand by Merricks shoulder. He turned to face them sharply; his strangle blue- gold eyes flashing with shock.

"The _what_?"

Merlin POV:

"Every wizarding family has a copy of them. They're a symbol of our historical roots and magical growth, representing where the first real functioning wizard society began, and the majour influences that shaped it."

Merlin's original thoughts that Hermione seemed intelligent were confirmed, as she sprouted a stream of eloquent knowledge that Gaius would have been proud of.

"I've never heard of them." He responded quietly, hoping it would prompt her into continuing. In the background Merlin noted that Harry looked a little miffed, as though this hadn't been the plan when they had come to talk to him. He suspected further questioning- as it would have been what any leader with half a brain would have done.

His luck had decided that it had abandoned him long enough, and it answered his pleas for more insight into what had happened to Camelot and Arthur.

He listened as she quickly launched into a full-fledged history lesson about the beginning and ending of Camelot, while Harry drew up a chair and lounged. Merlin took little notice of him, his eyes fixed on Hermione's passionate animation- though inside he felt cold.

"Well no one really knows much about Camelot before King Arthur- except it wasn't a very good place. The majour texts of Camelot were destroyed with the loss of the castle, and what is generally referenced too comes from the main court advisor of King Arthur, who apparently closely knew _the Merlin!"_

Merlin internally cringed, from the way people used his name to curse of express themselves, and the brief mention in the earlier text he had read- he had gathered that his exploits were apparently heard of. However he was daunted by how… grand they made him seem. He was nothing special, a little unique perhaps when it came to magic- but Merlin considered himself to and below average. His adventures were only heard, guessing by what Hermione had just said, because Gaius had taken it on himself to make Merlin a memoir.

He had no idea if he wanted to hug or strangle the old man.

"King Arthur was inspired by Merlin, his closest friend and advisor," HAH "To integrate magic fully into society, where it was used alongside muggles. Unfortunately after the Battle of Limerall, all text about Merlin just disappears- nothing is ever written about him again. Some think he died, others speculate that he never actually existed, and Merlin was a pseudo- name for a cult or really power witches and wizards, because the idea of the amount of power Merlin possessed his uncanny. Still, most people believe he did exist. It is said that Merlin's greatest enemy, Morgana disappeared around the same time also. It would lead to the several decades of peace until Mordred- her son, raised an army against Camelot and fought King Arthur at the Battle of Camlann. There they both dealt each other a mortal blow, and died on the battle fields… Merrick, are you okay?"

Merlin felt sick, pale and clammy, he leaned over in his chair his arms wrapped around his torso. The phantom wound throbbed heavily and his vision blurred.

_All record of him had disappeared._

Did that mean that he was never going home?

"I'm fine!" He choked out under the concerned gaze of Hermione, and curious expression on Harry's, "Just found it really interesting." The lie was weak, but Merlin couldn't think of anything better.

"Yes, well then…" Merlin's eyes flickered to Harry, and tried to focus on everything he had learnt about the boy. Lupin had stayed with him for a while at the table- filling Merrick in on everything he missed while his mum had kept him 'safe' from wizarding society. This debrief had also included a rundown of Harry and Voldemort. Merlin felt he had a pretty good idea of what exactly had happened between the two, the magic was simple for him- even if considered unconceivable nowadays. It also explained the dark threads that he had detected in the boys magic aurar when he had first probed.

He felt for the plight of the wizarding society- truly and honestly; but all Merlin wanted to do was return home. He remembered how his magic had flared out when the sand had torn away his destiny and future, how the golden threads had clung to anything close and strong enough to tether him to home- and how the anchor had just been ripped away with him.

Suddenly a soft cry came from Harry, and Merlin leaned forward to place a hand on the boys shoulder as he almost fell out of his chair. Hermione gasped and kneeled beside him as he buried his head in his hands and shook.

Merlin could feel the dark threads swimming around him with agitation, because whatever was occurring was effecting the connection he had with them- with Voldemort. Despite the urgency of the scenario, it was quite and quick- the argument between Ron and his mother still dominating the attention of the few who remained on the first floor.

"Harry?! You said it had stopped!" Hermione reproached with worry, as Harry opened his green eyes blearily to meet hers.

"It had…" he mumbled, looking bewildered "I've never felt him like that before…"

"What happened?" Hermione whispered, looking terrified.

"He was.. Shocked, absolutely flabbergasted; but at the same time there was this… excitement, and… jealousy," Harry looked right into Merlin's eyes as he uttered the damning phrase that caused Merlin's already failing grip on the world to slip, and shatter. "All because of a woman, a woman he called 'My lady.'"

**Chapter four- biggest writers block. I actually had written the beginning part with Merlin earlier on- but Harry was being a big bitch- excuse my language- ah screw it, I swear! Don't be too offended! Anyways, I left it at a cliff- hanger as to inspire myself to continue and quickly. If you have any questions, suggestions, feel free to leave it in the review section (as I do read them all) or just PM me! I am also without a beta, but I am not too concerned with that, and mistakes please just ignore- if there's a spelling error or mix up of a reference, I don't need it pointed out, it's an original story, just enjoy! Thank you 3 You guys are incredible!**


	5. Murder is not enough

**Mmkay, so here we go onto chapter 5. It has been fun writing this so far, even if my updates are not completely counted upon; whose joking, my consistency is appalling. I wanted to get your guy's opinion on my little idea. I was thinking of taking say… a hiatus and writing a couple chapters so that when I do begin updating again, they will be for sure weekly. Or just continue as I am now? If you review (which I very much hope you do) please include this in it. I do read every review! I promised some action in this chapter, so there is a little- true battle action will occur NEXT chapter. When I get around to it :P Without further ado: **

**Allon-sy!**

Harry POV:

Harry found himself standing in a darkly lit room. Heavy curtains drawn across tall windows that blocked the sunlight that lay on the other side from perpetrating the rich green fabric. The room itself was expensive, though had an oily feel.

High backed chairs that were made more for show then comfort lay at an even number around a highly polished black table. The wood was strong, and sleek- and the chairs lay so even to one another it seemed as though a ruler had been used to space them. A carpet that upon closer inspection looked a little threadbare was placed beneath the main set of table and chairs. Though hidden from view, if someone was to feel the urge to climb on their hands and knees under the table, they would find a detailed crest of a preying silver snake.

The elaborate furnishings was not what drew Harry's eye, though he did note them offhandedly as he had come to do when thrust into the vortex of Lord Voldemorts eyes. He tried to make himself small at the back of the snake- like man's eyes, figuratively peering out behind his fingers to see through to the events in the room.

A woman sat directly across from Voldemort, which Harry realized was not the head of the table, but in the middle.

She was _beautiful._

Long dark locks tangled and spilled across ivory skin, porcelain and perfect in the way that was inhuman. Pale, haunted green eyes were large in a calculating- yet slightly fearful expression. Despite that, she sat tall and proud, spine straight and hands lying elegantly upon the table.

Harry was drawn away from her contrasting beauty by the high voice of Voldemort, and he focused on the matter at hand. He had been painstakingly blocked from Voldemorts mind for over a year now. If the wall had come crumbling down at this moment- it was bound to be useful knowledge.

"….and if what you're saying is true-"

"I can assure you in full confidence it is. As I have demonstrated my skills earlier, which clearly lay above your own corrupt magic."

"I meant no offence, My Lady." Harry blinked, metaphorically. There were many things that Harry was unsure of in his life; however, an apologetic, simply submissive Voldemort was one thing that he would be willing to bet his life on never to happen. He began to view the woman in a different perspective, one where he noticed the shadows that stretched towards her, and how the gold flecks in her eyes eerily reminded him of someone (though he could not at the moment remember who), except that they were more reminiscent of explosions.

Leaning back in her chair, a steady hand brushed the black strands away from her face, her eyes never once wavering from Voldemorts. She seemed intrigued by him, but there was a definite twist of disgust that lingered around her mouth.

"I should never have come here. The spell was designed to erase, no matter how strong the weak ties of fate were. Only powerful, magic of such power that it is nonexistent- had any chance to survive- let alone bring me through as well. That servant," she spat "Is the cause of this, and I want to know how!" She brought her fist down on the table with a literal bang. Dark green sparks emitted from where she landed, marring the rich wood and leaving deep gouges from the trail of magic that rolled outward like vines.

Voldemort sucked in a breath: partly greed; partly fear.

Harry couldn't decide which was worse.

He knew that whatever she had the Voldemort wanted was exactly what they had to keep away from him. However, the fact that he feared it made Harry want to throw up his arms and declare his defeat.

Leaning across the table, Voldemort splayed his pale white hands on the dark word, looking like some form of grotesque spider that would have made Ron faint.

"My lady," he started off, his voice high and eager. "If I am right in who I believe it is, he is of immense power- none of which the wizarding world had seen before or since. Today he is revered by us for his great skill, a pioneer of the very society in which we live; the foundation that we have built our magic around. He, is known as the greatest wizard ever to live- a warlock, not a wizard. Some call him Emrys, but we know him as-"

Voldemort stopped talking, because the ground was rumbling, shaking as though there was a great beast beneath the floor that was turning in its slumber. The icy crystals on the chandelier were trembling with fright, and the polished windows were wavering in their steadiness. Voldemort barley had cast "Protego!" before the windows shattered inward, raining down on the two members with vengeance. The immaculate carpet was slice, the table now imbedded with the shards. The only place that remained untouched was the bubble around Voldemort, and the strange women.

In the back corner of Voldemorts mind, Harry flinched, but as a passenger he was able to see what those in the moment were not.

The women, the _lady's_, eyes had glowed a fiery gold, insanity and hatred dominant in the lines of her face. It was not the shock of the incident, or the subject matter to which it occurred. No, what had caught Harrys attention was the similarity between her eyes, and how Merricks had flashed in the sun.

But it could only be coincidence.

Right?

The tinkle of glass had barley faded from the air before the lady was on a rampage, sweeping back and forth across the floor, the glass disintegrating into small piles of ash on the carpet as she muttered a wandless spell.

"He cannot be Emrys, my doom, the ghost in my shadow! Impossible! He is nothing but an imbecilic servant, a pain to all my endeavors to liberate my people, but without magic. He is lucky, true, but, but…." She stopped and stared blankly at the wall, ignoring the fascinated look she was receiving. Suddenly tears welled up in her eyes, and something akin to recognition and realization flooded her face. There was a mix of heartbreak, anger, confusion, loneliness, and such unbearable sadness the Harry wished he could turn away from; but Voldemort felt, nor noticed the flickering expressions, and continued to watch hungrily.

With a low voice, she spoke to herself. "He lied to me… he could've helped me, we could've… he…" She turned to Vodemort, and straightened her spine so she stood beyond regally, and projected such power that Harry cringed. Her stance had become like a statue, and only her glittering, green eyes seemed alive with death.

"My lord, I will assist you in whatever means I can. Your enemies are my enemies, your goals mine. And after we have exceeded the expectations, I will find him. And I will kill him."

Voldemort drew around the table, and gave a lipless smile, his fingers stroking the wand in his grasp, and Harry felt as though the red slits had turned inwards, towards himself.

"You have my eternal gratitude my lady, and I believe I know just where to start."

Merlin POV:

Merlin gazed at himself in the mirror, feeling out of depth on the whole situation. He had thanked Mrs. Weasley profusely when she had gently pressed a bundle of clothes into his hands, with a small:

"It isn't much…"

He now was dressed, in what Merlin assumed the "muggle" style of dress, or what was he had seen the younger members of the group wearing. Despite the kindly women's claim that it wasn't much, the fabric and detailing was still a lot more than anything he had owned in Camelot.

The… _jeans_ were soft, and faded, but sturdier than anything he had. The shirt was simple, a deep blue, which made his eyes seem unnaturally electric against his pale face.

Merlin felt colourless, his cheeks waxy and sunken from his previous injury, and stress. Long fingers picked at the edge of the foreign clothing, and he bit his lips as he tried to gage answers from his own figure.

Merlin could not fault the generosity of these people, even if suspicion and mistrust still lingered in their conversations, but it still wasn't home. He felt a pang every time he thought about the proud stone walls of white and gold; and the banners that shone Pendragon red, and hang from the battlements like fire. When he closed his eyes, he could hear the firm steps of horses, and loud murmur of the people doing their daily chores.

_Enough!_ Merlin thought, desperately trying to erase the tantalizing images. He was never going home, and he had to accept that.

His nails bit into his palms as he turned away from the mirror, the image seeming mocking now. The stars were bright in the sky, and the light inky from the night. He had been here a week now, and had learned a few precious things about the new strange world he found himself in.

He had gotten a real shock when he had gone to the basin (sink) he reminded himself, and looking for a pump for water. Instead George had come up behind him and idly flicked the…. Faucet…. On and Merlin had jumped back with wide eyes as clear, limitless water flowed effortlessly from the contraption.

So far, he had confirmed that he was definitely out of his element.

A small smile tugged at his lips, it wasn't as though he didn't like the people he was with, but he wanted to be able to be truthful. In Camelot he justified the necessity of his secrets with his life, but now, now he just was frightened.

The name Merlin seemed otherworldly too the actual man himself; and he wanted to dig himself a hole every time Ron or the others used it as some sort of swear word or statement.

_Merlin's saggy- left_…. Really!

Anyways, Merlin shook his head, and slowly made his way down the rickety staircase, soft snores echoing throughout the house in the late hour. He had a purpose here now, and a plan to match. Harry's vision was clearly of Morgana, and he was guessing that if Voldemort knew who she was, then she had more access to information that Merlin desperately needed.

It also meant that his identity was probably revealed to her; which meant that when she finally came out of the shadows, she would be coming for him.

But he would be ready.

Morgana's unreasonable desire for what wasn't hers had stripped Albion of its future, and torn Merlin from his home, and loved ones. Her sadism and arrogance to work with magic she claimed as her own, but without understanding had torn an unknown veil. He had felt fury few times in his life, despite the conditions of which he operated on a daily bases. This time though, he was beyond furious. There was a coiling sense of coolness which had gathered in the recesses of his soul, something that tainted his aura a little darker than its natural bright gold. It was necessary at this point, because he had lost everything, and all he had left was the small piece of vengeance that he hoped to inflict upon the twisted shell of death and split wounds, festering with hatred and malice, that was hidden in the form of a pale beauty.

A small pang went through him as he thought of how Gaius would react, or what Arthur would think of him obliterating his sister? At this point, the term or "murder" was not enough for him. He wanted all of her misdeeds and wrongful actions to plague her, and fill her mind to the point where she could not bear it anymore. As she would scream for release, clawing into her brain with her own finger nails- then, then Merlin would strike her down.

He hastily told himself not to dwell on those images either, and a small trail of disgust wormed its way through his system.

Merlin slipped outside, the door muffled by a quick flash of his eyes. He recited a spell under his breath which allowed him to move undetected. He wasn't invisible, but anyone who looked at him wouldn't realize that there was a person there, unless he wanted to be seen.

The grass tickled his bare feet, and he strode to the edge of the barrier, the hum in the air visible to his eyes, a sheer golden. With a last glance back at the shuttered house, he strode through it with confidence, assured that he could easily re-enter undetected. The spell parted for him like a curtain, and no trigger to warn the bodies of the house were sent out. Instead the magic continued to flow undisturbed. A small grin quickly lit his faces, before it faded away as equally as fast.

It had been over 1000 years, Merlin thought as he walked, letting the tug of magic guide him, but he hoped that one friend would still be alive.

Kilgahara.

He had probably been walking for about an hour when he reached a suitable destination. Merlin had traveled as far away from civilization as he could. Soon the earth had turned into a turf of grassy mounds, and he headed for the tallest incline, hoping that he would be easier to spot when, or if, Kilgahara came.

Merlin stopped at the peak of the hill, nothing back oceans of long yellow grass dancing in the night breeze. The burrow had disappeared with the fidelius charm, but he still kept himself cloaked for fear of unwanted viewers. He took a moment just to appreciate the stillness, the openness, how nothing of this time touched the ground, and he could pretend- for just a second that he was home. The moon hung silver behind him, casting an ethereal glow over his sharp features, and turning the ground black.

Merlin's fingers twitched and his eyes flared brighter than a sunrise, a gold that could probably be seen for miles. He let out a cry, a solitary call that was beyond human, and made of pure magic. It was a note of anguish, and fear. One that spoke to the mermaids beneath the seas, and the centaurs in their forests of a coming change in the prophecy that had resided in the bowels of the department of mysteries.

As the note faded, Merlin fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands. No tears were shed, but his heart beat wildly as though the sheer emotion he felt could not be simple expressed by his simple functions.

He let out another call, by throwing back his head and calling, "O Drakon! Emale! Soofun-teng maka liamor!"

The words were cast out like a giant wave in a sea; washing over the leafy branches of trees, creeping under the beds of those asleep, and soaring through the sky on the magic of the old religion.

Across a deep lake, near a castle that glowed with mystique and magic, there sat a small circle of land in the middle. It was not the one that everyone saw, that was just a small copse of trees. Unremarkable and indistinguishable except for the white tomb which resided on it the middle.

This circle of land was just the gateway to the island, which had been hidden from time and knowledge. This isle of the blessed had remained sentient throughout the years, one of the few reminiscent of the past, a place of magic, where what should have been never was. It had been protected by the magic of the old religion, its importance was still symbolic, and the dragons had also helped hide in with their special brand of protection.

The isle also stood apart from time, running in a loop of years, rather than a steady stream forward. Inside the sanctuary however, not much had changed from the time of Camelot. The altar still stood on crack cobblestones. The only difference was the vegetation and life that sprouted from every nook and cranny; coating the trees with ivy and moss.

Lying in the center of the ruins were two dragons. One was of average size, and a deep blue, mixed with softer green scales. The other was massive. A mosaic of gold and red and unfathomable bulk which lay curled near the smaller one. When Merlin's call echoed through the broken walls and dusty stones they raised their head in unison and roared to the sky; a symphony of hopefulness, shock, and call to arms. The time for basking in the sun had faded, and both felt the stirring of old magic deep within the earth. For their dragon lord had returned.

And a new era was starting.

One to fix right.

What should have been.

**So please rate the review, I love to hear from you guys- though if it is about my updating I KNOW IM SORRY I TRY BUT I FAIL AND IM A FAILURE AND I ADMITT THAT. Good? Anyways, I have my last day of school today, (I stayed up all night to finish this for you guys) and then I go into full time work in the summer. Such happiness! Wait, provincial, right- close enough! Try and stick with me too the next chapter! **


End file.
